Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Moon Travelers ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

The Moon Travelers

Chapter Three

// I would fly you to the moon and back
If you'll be if you'll be my baby
Got a ticket for a world where
we belong
So would you be my baby
Ooh-ooh //


At the last second, however, the expression in his face changed, and the laughter faded to seriousness.

"Nothing," was his reply, and abruptly his fingers were gone, replaced by cool air.

For some reason, I missed that feel of flesh against flesh.

Shifting in place, I questioned, keenly aware of the uncomfortable silence, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Got a beer? American style?"

I grinned impishly.

"Of course," I informed him, pulling two beers from the fridge. Handing one to Trunks, I popped the top of my own.

Taking a quick sip of the beer, I curiously asked, recalling his earlier words, "What kind of jobs did you do during your trips?" Trunks smiled mischievously.

"All sorts of jobs," he said with an off-handed shrug. "Stuff that would bore you."

"Or maybe interest me," I quickly countered. My lavender-haired friend looked amused, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"I don't want to talk about me, I want to talk about you." His words were earnest, just as they had been when talking about our fight. Seeing the determination glittering in his eyes, I gave up- for the moment.

"Fine," I sighed, settling down in one of the chairs at the dining table. "What do you want to know?"

Trunks copied my movements, sitting and taking a long swig of his drink. When he swallowed the liquid, he grinned, but his eyes were deadly solemn.

"Everything, professor. Everything."

Clearing my throat, I obeyed.

"I'll begin with the others. Your father is exactly the same, always sparring with mine. He didn't react much when you disappeared, only smirked a secretive grin and said nothing. Your mother went kind of berserk about the million dollars and always wondered if you were safe or not. I think she gave up on you returning after a year or two. Bra was torn between worrying about you and being happy about becoming the new Vice President. My dad and mom didn't really react either, but then again, he could find you anytime he wanted to. Gohan was terribly worried, but Dad said that you were all right, and we trusted him. Pan- she had a crush on you, you know- was terrified that you had been kidnapped, but I told her you hadn't." A sardonic smirk twisted my lips briefly. "I just didn't tell her how I knew that. Marron worried about you, but with my dad and my own reassurances, she figured you were happy wherever you were, and that you'd return someday. She actually got married four years back. Orin Hunnish, the owner of a large telemarketing company. Mrs. Hunnish is definitely in the money. And in love. They have a five-month-old daughter named Oral, and Marron's a stay-at-home mother now." The look on his face when I told him about Marron was almost comical.

"Marron has a kid?" he finally said, staring in shock at something only he could see. I grinned.

"She is thirty years old, Briefs." Trunks blinked, his eyebrows falling back to their normal positions.

"Right," he mumbled, his eyes far-off and distant. Waiting until his eyes cleared and his gaze refocused on me, I continued.

"Pan goes to a prestigious university, and is already a well-known architect. She did the landscape for my yard. Bra is at the same university, and they're roommates. Her major is business, of course." Trunks grinned faintly.

"Of course," he agreed, nodding. His eyes focused on me, and suddenly it was as if those azure orbs were taking in every detail of my physique. As he did so, I felt the same weird sense as his fingers had produced within me.

"What?" I finally inquired, curious to why he was staring at me like that.

"You've changed a lot," was his reply, his eyes still lingering on me.

"So have you," I commented. It was my turn to take in his frame.

The ham sandwich and beer had brought color back to his nevertheless pale face. I saw on his visage tired lines that had never been there before, and the slight crease in his forehead that came from scowling too much. His tendrils were the same color as before but longer, falling to his shoulders like a biker's. What was I saying? He had gotten here on a motorcycle, after all. His eyes were the same piercing sapphire, but they held more wisdom, more nightmares, more sorrows in them than before. I didn't like the darkness the lurked behind the bright light that shimmered in those azure depths, and mentally told myself to come back to that later. The bright light that had shined in his eyes at age eighteen, however, still burned brightly, their luminosity reassuring me of his will to live. Despite the thinness of his frame, he still looked strong, and his clothes were nicer than what I wore, a tight-fitting dark indigo sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of long black jeans that fit him rather smugly, a fact that caused my eyes to quickly focus back on his face. Unfortunately, my gaze fell upon his lips, which were unflawed, full and moistened. And desirable-

Damn, I must be worn-out. Trunks was a friend, and more to the point, I wasn't gay. I just hadn't found a girl to interest me yet.

Noticing my slight recoil, Trunks raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Unable to help it, I flushed and cast my gaze upon the table, suddenly finding the wooden design quite interesting.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a long while, until he finally broke it.

"So, what made you choose to become a professor on Japanese mythology?" His question made me raise my eyes briefly to grin at him. "I know you were interested in the bullshit, but your major was Chinese Literature."

I shrugged. "I lost interest in it, and found Japanese mythology more interesting. That was one of my minors. Remember? Along with American Culture?"

"Yeah, but you were born in Japan, baka," he shot back. It was then I realized we had been speaking in English the entire time. Both Italian and English had become fluent languages for me; so much in fact that I sometimes even thought in the dialects.

"When did you learn English, Briefs?" I asked, my eyebrows rising in surprise.

Trunks looked mischievous, flashing me that mega-watt smile of his. I caught my breath slightly as the old Trunks was back in full-force, no hint of any weariness or sorrow in that grin. "I picked it up."

"In San Francisco, New York City, and Washington DC?" I questioned wryly.

"And Hong Kong," Trunks added, chuckling faintly. "They speak English there too, professor."

"Of course. How could I forget Hong Kong?" I queried sardonically.

"Yes, professor. How could you?" he countered with a smirk. Unable to think of anything to reply with, I responded with a shrug and another sip of my beer.

Having finished off his ham sandwich and alcoholic drink, Trunks asked, "So, what's the rest of your home like?" The question caught me slightly off-guard, and I blinked rather stupidly before replying.

"Er, it isn't much. I'll show you." With a nod, the lavender-haired man rose. Standing after a moment, I turned and headed from the fairly tiny dining room/kitchen to my study.

"So this is where you write the assignments to screw any of your students' weekends?" Trunks asked as his eyes scanned the cluttered room. I shrugged, grinning.

"I'm not a tyrant, Briefs. That's your job, remember?" A small smile formed on his face as his eyes clouded over and he relived old memories. I grinned as his eyes cleared, and he smirked back.

"Whatever you say, professor. Do you have a guest room for me to sleep in?" Once more, his words caught me unawares. My eyes widened at the dilemma.

"All I have is my own bed," I replied, slightly embarrassed. "I don't even have a couch." Trunks raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. He did, however, have one when I offered gallantly, "You can have my bed." At that, he snorted derisively.

"A university lecturer like yourself needs his beauty sleep, Goten." In return, I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not getting any sleep tonight anyways," I pointed out, nodding towards the clock in my study that read 4:35 AM. Trunks looked slightly startled at the time, then grinned, a trifle sheepish.

"I suppose you're right," he said. He began to say something else, but his words were cut off by a loud yawn. I chuckled.

"Looks like someone other than me needs his beauty sleep," I gently teased. Trunks smirked back.

"Someone such as I needs no beauty sleep. If I grow any handsomer, all women would leave their husbands for me. And some men too, I gather," he added, the atypical glow from before shining in his eyes once more. Yet again, I blinked, and then decided he was joking.

"And I'm sure you'd go after the men, eh Briefs?" I questioned sardonically, not at all expecting his reaction of my words.

Trunks's eyes darkened, and he glared at me, looking so much like Vegeta it was unnerving. His slender hands were knuckled white as he curled them into balled fists. His entire stance was aggressive and defensive as he stared angrily at me.

"You say that as if liking guys is a bad thing, something to be despised," Trunks growled, his voice harsh with so many emotions that I could only pick out a couple of them. Anger. Bitterness. Hurt.

I stared at him shock, automatically taking a step backwards from his fury- at me.

"T-Trunks-" He brushed my stammer away with a livid wave of his hand, his eyes narrowed almost to slits as he glared heatedly at me.

He was even angrier than the time he had hit me, over eight years ago. That didn't bode well. Not well at all.

"Now do you see why I didn't go back?" His voice rose until he was practically screaming at me. "Now do you see why? They'll shun me! They'll disown me, like they didn't have a chance to eight years ago! I CAN'T GO BACK EVEN IF I WANT TO!" His raging quieted, and he simply stared defiantly at me, the fury that had tensed his body flowing to simply reside in his blazing sapphire eyes. Feeling suddenly dizzy, I opened my mouth to speak, but once more he interrupted me, this time his words quiet and determined. "And I really don't want to go back. And I'm damn proud of liking guys. I'm sorry if you don't approve of my lifestyle. I'll leave now. Good-bye, Goten."

With that, Trunks Briefs turned to vanish from my life for the second time- this time forever.

Just as it had those eight years earlier, my body and instincts took control. Before he could pass through the exit of the study towards the kitchen and outside, I strode forward and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, pinning him in place.

This time I would make sure he stayed was my only thought as I forced him to turn and face me. For a long moment I didn't speak, only stared in a mixture of distress and wonder into his eyes. The anger had vanished, leaving only sorrow and loss and a bright sheen that could only be withheld tears.

Trunks would weep over me? And was trying not to cry?

"Let me go," he rasped out, angrily bringing his trembling hands up to dash the trace of tears away from his eyes. "I come here after eight years to try and say I'm sorry, and now I'm going to leave again just because I like guys. Can't you see this is hard enough as it is, you asshole? Or do you really want me to punch you again?" His voice was shaking slightly, but it held the same iron will that it always had. Against my will, I smiled, my hands never leaving his shoulders.

Maybe, before, I hadn't been tired when thinking about how Trunks looked. Or maybe I had.

Right now all I wanted to do was calm my friend down.

"And I'd deserve it, as before," I half-whispered, half-sighed as I recalled my earlier betrayal. His narrowed eyes widened slightly in confusion before he roughly tried to shove my hands from his shoulders.

"Get off!" he practically screamed, his voice threatening to crack as more traitorous tears appeared in his eyes. "Just let me go, you stupid asshole, so I can leave!"

"Briefs, when the hell did I ever say I was homophobic?" I wanted to know, tightening my grip on his shoulders until my knuckles were white. I was so out of shape I knew my grasp wouldn't hurt him, even as colorless as my knuckles were at the moment.

Trunks blinked, looking bewildered. "B-but you sounded-" he began falteringly, and then trailed off, still blinking in confusion as a single tear traced its way down his cheek. He no longer attempted to brush my hands from his shoulders, and simply stood there, dumbfounded.

I felt my lips twitch upwards for a moment, then settle into a straight line. Unconsciously bringing one hand upwards to wipe the single tear that glistened on his pale face, I locked gazes with him.

"I think you most definitely need some sleep, pal," I commented softly. "I happen to be friends with many gays." I cracked a smile. "Most of them are the nicest people I know." I tried for a joke, even though it was a lame one. "I shouldn't be surprised, you know." He raised a half-mocking eyebrow. "All the handsome guys are gay or taken. It's a fact of life."

Trunks managed a weak smile and sighed heavily, the movement making my hand, which still rested on his cheek, rise and fall slightly. "Maybe you're right. On all counts." He noticed my hand and reached up to pull it down, the warmth of his fingers heating my own.

"Trunks," was the only word I spoke aloud before my breath suddenly caught.

His eyes were glowing with the peculiar light again, but this time I could identify the emotions that made his azure orbs smolder. Lust. Love. Longing. Trying to catch my breath, I repeated his name, albeit weakly.

"Goten," the words were breathed from his lips before they gently pressed against my own, their warmth a caress. My eyes fluttered close at the sensation as I leaned into it.

Not gay, eh? Well, let me rephrase that. I hadn't had any homosexual feelings before this night.

Our lips still meshed, our fingers still entwined, I didn't resist as he drew me closer to him. A shiver ran up my spine as our bodies met, and his lips pressed down harder, with more passion.

I responded, kissing fiercely back, my free hand sliding around his waist, and the other releasing his to wrap around his neck. The passion that swallowed me was nearly overwhelming as his lips pressed ardently onto my own.

By all means, I had kissed other people; hell, I had slept with Paresu, but this felt so right, so wonderful, so...

Absolutely perfect.

We pulled away briefly, to catch our breath, my eyes opening slightly to see him smiling at me.

"I guess you really don't mind gays," he chuckled, smirking devilishly. I laughed breathlessly, sidling closer.

"Damn straight. Or rather, not straight," I replied. This time it was my turn to lock our orifices, and I eagerly complied. His hands appeared from nowhere to tenderly knead my lower back. I leaned into the touch, the soft moan that exited my mouth quietly breathed into his. His lips curved slightly at the sound, moving my lips into that position with his, then his tongue gently slid through my open lips, the fiery invasion burning its journey in all directions, from the top of my mouth to entwine with my tongue. I groaned at the sensation, my mouth opening slightly to welcome even more intrusion within. My entire body shuddering as I clung to him, a quiet whimper escaped my lips when he finally broke the kiss, his pale face now flushed.

"Come on, professor," he whispered, his full lips just barely brushing my own as he spoke, azure gaze locked with mine. "You haven't shown me your entire house."
Taking in a lungful of air, I laughed lightly.

"Then let me show you, Briefs," I assured him, and, my hands slipping from around his neck to grab his own, proceeded to tug him in the direction of the most desirable place in the world at this moment for me, and most likely for him.

My bedroom.


(To be continued...)